Dragon Riders
by AshleyAdenine
Summary: Dragon AU. As a doctor John Watson needs someone to watch his back. In the army they've chosen dragons. John must choose a dragon partner and hope for the best, especially when he ends up with the fiery Sherlock as his protector. But dragons can be surprising creatures and none more than Sherlock. dragonlock/John
1. Chapter 1

John grumbled again as they made their way down the musty hallway. He wanted nothing to do with this, had tried to get out of it, but the army had insisted. As a doctor he would need something to watch his back, something to protect him when he was kneeling over an injured soldier.

"Dragon," John sighed. "Never thought I'd be here." The greasy man in front of him was turning a large deadbolt on the third door they'd come too, his forehead gleaming in sweat.

"Right in here sir," he explained. "This is where we keep the ones strong enough for the military." John stepped into the dank area, scanning the cages on either side of him. Dragons in various forms from ones that looked fully human to ones that were quite cramped in full dragon form littered the cages. The ones in this part of the facility were meant to have more of an attitude and power so most the dragons he passed were glaring obstinately at him. They came to the end of the row and he started to follow the man around a corner when something caught his eye. An obsidian scale glinted in the dim light and he followed the shape up to a pair of golden eyes that were staring back at him intensely.

"What about this one?" John asked, when the man had skipped over him in his endless sales pitch.

"That one? You don't want him," the seller snorted. "He's gonna be put out of his misery next week. Trouble that one is."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Fights orders constantly, fights handlers like the devil, plus that lightning blast of his definitely has some kick." The dragon bared its fangs in a smirking leer if dragons could do such things, lightning crackling over his scales.

"Speed?" John asked, moving closer to the bars to get a better look.

"Sir, I beg you, you don't want to bother with this one," the man tried again. John turned and glared at the greaseball.

"I don't believe it is up to you what dragons are fit for the british army," John snapped, posture straightening. "Now I asked you a question."

"Ain't seen nothing faster," he relented. When John turned back around the dragon had come closer, allowing him to get a better look. It was almost cat like, sturdy but graceful and when the light caught the scales just right there was a purple sheen to the bottom arc of each scale. His golden eyes took in John as much as John was taking in him.

"He's amazing," John whispered. "I'll take him." Greasy, as John was affectionately thinking of him as, groaned and went to fetch paperwork and some unlucky handlers.

When the men finally returned, they were all wearing rubber gloves and sturdy jumpsuits. They carried long sharp poles and one man was drawing up drugs into a syringe. The dragon started snarling behind John, drawing back slightly into the shadows, but John could see the electricity rolling over its scales.

"I really don't think this will all be necessary," John argued as the men were suiting up. A large crate was rolled up to an opening of the cage and latched securely in place.

"Ya have no idea wha' you're dealin' wif," a man missing quite a few teeth snapped. "Lucky te be alive in the 'morrow," he mumbled and went to his position by the cage door.

"Please?" John pleaded. "Can I just try first?" They all looked to Greasy who finally nodded his head slightly.

"It's your funeral," he grumbled. John went to the human sized door, watching as one of the men unlocked it and opened it just enough for him to squeeze in. He stepped inside and immediately the door was slammed and locked behind him. The dragon was backed into a corner, electricity still crackling over his scales, but he simply watched John, no act of hostility...yet.

"What's your name?" he asked gently, hands upright in a sign of peace.

"He goes by Sherlock," Greasy called from outside the cage and the dragon whipped its head around and let out a hissing snarl in the man's direction.

"It's all right Sherlock," John cooed. "Do you wanna leave this place? Go on an adventure?" The dragon's spiky ears lifted, looking alert and the lightning trickled to a stop. "You have to go in this box, but I promise you no more drugs and no more cage after that. You're going to live with me and we're going to go on an adventure." Behind him he could hear a few of the men chuckling which had Sherlock glaring in their direction again. Haughtily he got to his feet, wings tucking against his side and tail swaying and moved smoothly into the box waiting for him. He curled up like a great big cat and for all intents and purposes went to sleep. The man with the missing teeth silently shut the big cage door and John turned to see everyone staring at him in disbelief. "Shall we fill out that paperwork then?" he asked, stepping out of the cage and past the handlers.

By the time they finally made it to John's flat Sherlock was awake and getting quite cranky from being in the cage for too long. John could hear the electricity crackling over him and was getting nervous about opening the cage for the first time, but a deal was a deal. When the last delivery person left, he shut the door behind them and approached the crate nervously. He placed a hand over the big rusty latch and realized golden eyes were peering at him intently between the slats. He steadied his nerves and yanked the latch open. Sherlock burst from the cage, knocking John back onto the floor and whirlwinded around the living area finally stopping crouched over his new owner. He stared at him intently for several minutes, John not moving a muscle, then shrieked and went bounding to the back of the couch where he settled himself, one wing draping onto the floor haphazardly. John let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and pushed himself upright, taking in the sight of the dragon curled up on his couch. He didn't seem like he'd be moving any time soon so John headed for the kitchen intent on making a cup of tea and some food for himself and his new companion.

He'd been clattering around noisily in the kitchen for a while when he realized he wasn't the only one in the kitchen any longer. He turned and about dropped his cuppa, mouth dropping in shock. A nude, tall pale man was standing in the doorway, dark curls grazing his forehead. He had two small curved horns nestled in his hair and a scattering of scales across his body. Two large leathery wings were curled almost protectively around his shoulders as he took a look around.

"It's been a long time since I've been in this form," he said in a rich baritone, icy blue eyes finally focusing on John. "Is there more food? I haven't eaten in a very long time either."

"Uh...of course!" John stammered, turning and fixing another plate. "I'll see about finding you something to wear too!" Sherlock had sat himself down at the table when John turned around again, thanking him as he sat the plate down in front of him. When John finally sat down with his own plate of food Sherlock looked at him carefully.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked suddenly, eating another forkful.

"How did you know?" John asked.

"I remember you saying adventure, you're clearly army. Army requires their higher officers and medical professionals to have dragons these days. You're a doctor which is how you ended up with me, so where are we going? Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Amazing," John mumbled.

"What?" Sherlock said, looking confused.

"That was incredible, how'd you know all that?" John stammered.

"I can see it," Sherlock said softly, eyes on his plate. "One of my talents I guess, seeing the truth."

"Well it was bloody amazing," John complimented, gathering his plate up and depositing it in the sink. "I'm gonna see about finding you something to wear." John dug for a while before finding a pair of sweats and a large t-shirt he expected would fit the dragon. He returned with the items and a pair of scissors, prepared to cut holes for his leathery wings. Sherlock took the items, yanking the pants on with a slight grimace and took one look at the t-shirt before abandoning the concept all together. "We can go get you some proper clothes tomorrow," John promised. "Plus I'll have to take you by the base for inspection and to have you fitted for your own gear. We'll be leaving within the month for Iraq so we're kind of on a time crunch." Sherlock nodded, dragging a blanket from the back of the couch over him as he curled up on the leather sofa. "Well... good night," John said awkwardly, backing towards his own bedroom. John sighed as he shuffled into his own bed, 'maybe this won't be so bad after all.'


	2. Chapter 2

John woke to a woman's shriek and a horrendous snarl and went flying out of bed. "Damn it Mrs. Hudson," he snapped as he went flying down the stairs. The woman in question was cowering on the floor at the base of the door and Sherlock in full dragon form was in the middle of his living room, wings fully extended and teeth bared in a snarl.

"Sherlock no!" John cried out, stepping between them. Sherlock stopped baring his teeth, but continued to growl, trying to peer around John at the elderly woman. John stepped closer, pushing against Sherlock's shoulder. As soon as his hands touched scales, the dragon snapped, pulling away from John's touch. He shambled off behind the couch, glaring back at both the humans as he grumbled and curled up on the floor, only his tail visible from behind his barrier.

"Mrs. Hudson you should probably go," John finally turned and told her, offering a hand to help her up.

"What is that thing doing in my house?!" she demanded, pointing accusingly at Sherlock who smacked his tail against the floor in agitation.

"He's army issue Mrs. Hudson. I put it off as long as I could, you know I did," John sighed, shuffling her towards the door. "We'll be out of your hair in no time." She started sputtering, but John managed to get the door shut and locked before she could get anything else in. "You should probably change and get dressed," John called to the dragon. "We'll have to get going soon." Another tail smack was his only response as he headed to take a shower quickly before they had to report to the army base.

When John returned to the living room washed and clothed Sherlock was waiting in his half human form and had even managed to cut and tie the t-shirt John had left him to his needs. He looked bored but followed John out of the apartment and even managed to hail a cab when John's tries had failed miserably.

When they arrived at the army base John led the way to a large warehouse looking building and stopped at the desk to check in. Sherlock looked around, noticing a few other dragons nearby. Most of them were collared and chained, being led around like dogs by their masters. The ones that weren't looked so miserably beaten and depressed that had the opportunity to escape risen they probably wouldn't even have tried taking it. Sherlock found himself growling under his breath when John realized what his source of distress was.

"I don't like those things either," John whispered. "Stay close and I don't think they'll try and make me use one on you." Sherlock growled again, but followed John to the next room and stood at John's shoulder as the man sat filling out papers. People and dragons alike were watching him and looking at John and that annoyed Sherlock even further. His wings twitched, stretching and closing in agitation.

"John Watson," a voice called suddenly. "And dragon: Sherlock." Someone snickered and Sherlock spun, fixing a piercing glare on the snivelling dragon that had dared laugh at him.

"Come on Sherlock," John said gently. "Forget about it." Sherlock gave the dragon one last glare that made the other visibly shrink before turning and following John, wings unfurling slightly. As soon as they had stepped into the next room a man was beside him and grabbed one of his wings without warning or asking. Sherlock snarled, whipping the appendage away and knocking the man back.

"Get your dragon under control!" a voice barked from across the room, a man stepped forward, a beaded grey dragon beside him. The dragon bared its teeth at Sherlock in challenge that Sherlock accepted full heartedly, starting to move forward still in his human form.

"Sherlock!" John pleaded. Wings twitched and finally he stopped, slinking back to John's side and flopping to the floor with a huff.

"Dr. Watson," the man greeted, shaking hands firmly. "I'm general Bowen. Found a fiery one I see." Sherlock snarled under his breath, and John swore his hair stood on end with the electrical charge in the air. "My bad," the general corrected, smoothing his arm hair down. "A lightning drake then."

"His name's Sherlock," John offered, standing at attention. "Just got him yesterday sir." The general shooed the man that had grabbed Sherlock out of the room and circled the two slowly.

"I think you two will make a fine pair," he finally said, stopping in front of them. "Dragon form please!" he demanded,taking a step back and placing a hand on his own dragon's shoulder. Sherlock grumbled, getting to his feet and unfurling his wings to full width.

"Please Sherlock," John pleaded. "Just do what he's asking...nicely." Sherlock grumbled, wondering again what made him want to please this army officer. A dark cloud gathered around him, seeming to flash lightning from within and then a cat-like shriek tore through the room and Sherlock burst out of the cloud, lightning crackling over his scales. He stood tall and proud, wings unfurled and glared at the grey dragon.

"Very nice," the general complimented. "Large enough for riding, good musculature, strong wings. Shall we fit you for a saddle?" Sherlock snorted, looking back at John who shrugged.

"Wouldn't hurt to have just in case," John reasoned. Sherlock visibly sighed, wings drooping.

"We'll at least get all the fittings for the harnesses and armor," Bowen said, stepping closer to take a better look at Sherlock. The grey dragon made a noise of distress as he drew nearer Sherlock and the general shushed him. "We're fine Lestrade." Lestrade sighed, wings stretching and closing. Sherlock looked bored, tail curling in a half circle around where John still stood. Suddenly the door burst open and a man came running in.

"Sir, sir, emergency!" John didn't quite know what happened at first except for suddenly it was quite warm. Sherlock was pressed against him, tail curled protectively and wing curved over him, snarling at the intruder who stood there smirking slightly.

"Test passed," the general chuckled. "Very well done." John turned back to the general, Sherlock reluctant to let him out of the protection of his wing.

"That was a test?" John demanded. "I almost had a heart attack!"

"We want to see that your dragon has some instinct to protect. It's hard to have a partner that has no interest in your safety whatsoever." Bowen was scratching away on something on his desk then paged fitters to come measure Sherlock for his harnesses. "Looks like you found a good one John Watson."


	3. Chapter 3

The next several weeks passed in a blur, going for fittings, packing, and being detailed on their mission. Sherlock remained obstinate about anyone touching him which made fitting his harnesses quite difficult. He had been sulking in his dragon form more than human and had created quite the sizable crevice in the couch much to John's displeasure. The big ship out day came though with a sniveling Mrs. Hudson waving them off as Sherlock was loaded into the back of a truck in a crate, John clambering in after him. He watched the scenery as they drove, one hand pressed against Sherlock's crate. "It'll be a long time till we get back here," he mumbled to the dragon who let out a puff of breath and smacked his tail against the floor.

When they arrived at the base they were instructed to report to the warehouse so John headed that way, Sherlock striding beside him in his new harnesses. The dragon's head was high, obviously preening in his shiny new harness. The straps blended into his hide well, the leather bags filled with the supplies they'd need. The only thing that stood out about him was the big red cross across a leather chest piece. When they entered the warehouse there were other men there, dragons with similar red crosses on their chest pieces. He saw his friend Mike Stamford from college and waved hello. A yellow dragon was sitting beside him and looked nervous at their approach.

"Mike!" John greeted, shaking his hand firmly. Sherlock drew up beside John, standing tall and proud and the yellow dragon sank back further.

"This is Molly," Mike introduced, gesturing to the dragon next to him. "Had her about 3 months now. She's an earth dragon." Molly refused to make eye contact with John and especially Sherlock.

"Well this is Sherlock," John said, gesturing at the dragon beside him. "Lightning drake, been together a couple weeks." Sherlock's hide crackled with electricity proudly, making Molly visibly cringe. Mike whistled in appreciation, taking in the dark dragon.

"He looks tough," Mike said appreciatively.

"Won't let anyone touch him," John sighed, glancing up at Sherlock who snorted in derision. "But he's passed all his tests with flying colors."

"Can everyone line up please!" a man yelled out from a small constructed stage. A man in general's garb stepped up to the stage watching them all as they organized themselves.

"I am general Zane," he finally called out when everyone had settled. "I am in charge of the dragon division of the army." As he talked an obsidian dragon made its way onto the stage, settling itself in and staring down all the dragons lined up. Beside him Sherlock started to growl softly and John hushed him. "For the trip over your dragons will need to be in human form. We simply don't have the space to accommodate that many dragons in full form. You will be filtered through 3 rooms where your dragons will change and don their jumpsuits for the journey. Convene outside for our departure." As they were dismissed Sherlock shoved his way towards one of the changing rooms with John jogging to catch up and offering apologies to people. As the door shut behind him John breathed a sigh of relief and flushed as Sherlock changed. His nudeness never bothered him so he walked without any show of shyness to gather the jumpsuit from a stack in the room.

"John," he said after a moment, and John realized he had closed his eyes. Sherlock was standing right in front of him, blue eyes studying him carefully. The jumpsuit was on but zipped only to his navel, allowing a generous portion of skin and scale to show. "Are you ready?" John nodded, exiting the room with Sherlock following. They were boarded on the plane, Sherlock snarling when an officer tried to help with the straps and buckles. Finally everyone was aboard and the hatch closed with an ominous thud as a few dim lights flickered on overhead. John could barely see anyone around him and gave a shuddering breath. His life was about to change dramatically. He jumped when suddenly a hand touched his forearm gently. He looked over at Sherlock who's eyes were glowing slightly in the dimness. "We'll make it back." Sherlock said simply and removed his hand back to his lap. John turned away but felt a thrill through him. Sherlock had allowed contact between them.


	4. Chapter 4

John ducked as an explosion sent debris flying over his head. Sherlock screeched beside him, wings outstretched in protection. They'd been here only a few weeks and it had been the most intense couple weeks of his life. John stumbled to the ground beside a soldier, pressing a hand over the wound bleeding sluggishly from his side. Sherlock formed a barrier around them, blasting lightning at an enemy that came too close. "Sherlock! I need bandages!" the dragon shifted his position so the pack John needed was beside him and let John fumble for what he needed. Before he could start unraveling the bandages the man beneath him sputtered, blood pouring from his mouth and then lay still.

"God dammit!" John cursed, throwing the roll down in frustration. Sherlock made a series of noises in question, blasting another enemy. "It's no use! We have to get out of here!" Sherlock turned, nudging John to his feet and shuffeling him back towards the camp. Explosions were still going off around them, rocking John's footing and making him fall several times. On the fifth fall Sherlock sighed heavily, pushing John to his feet then shoved his head between the soldier's legs and flipped him onto his back. "Sherlock what?" John stammered, then lurched to grab hold of the harness as wings flapped and they went shooting into the air. "Holy shit!" John yelped, hanging on for dear life. Sherlock flapped firmly, taking them quickly out of the danger zone and back towards their camp. They finally got to a reasonable height and Sherlock's wings straightened, letting them glide more easily. John sat up a bit, looking around. Up here it seemed peaceful, the gentle rhythmic flapping of wings relaxing. "I'm...I'm riding a dragon," John whispered in awe, looking down to Sherlock who glanced back at him with a slight smirk. John repositioned himself, slipping into the seat of the saddle that had always been on Sherlock but never been used. His feet slipped comfortably into stirrups and there was a curve of leather across the front to hold on to.

They were losing altitude as they neared the camp and were about to touch down when Sherlock's head snapped to the right and something slammed into them. John clung to the handle in front of him, pulling himself as close to the dragon as he could as they rolled, hitting the ground hard. Sherlock slid to a stop and John was flung about 20 feet away, hitting the ground with a snap. He cried out in pain, clutching his arm and suddenly Sherlock was there standing over him and snarling at whatever had hit them. John looked up and saw a dragon approaching, fangs bared and growling. Its hide was a beaded red and flames were licking the corners of its mouth. The dragon had a harness with army insignia on it and John groaned, partly in pain and partly in frustration. Keeping so many dragons in one area caused many fights for dominance and Sherlock had proved to be a very dominant dragon. He'd never been involved in these fights until now and his throbbing arm proved just how tough these fights could be. Sherlock was still standing over him snarling, refusing to move even as the other dragon drew closer. John could hear the electricity crackling over his scales and the buildup of energy made the hair on his arms stand on end. The other dragon started to charge and Sherlock let a blast go as he flattened himself closer over John.

"Moran!" a voice yelled and John heard the slam of another dragon tackling the fire drake. Sherlock lifted enough to allow John to see Lestrade had tackled the attacker and was holding him down. Moran's keeper was running to the dragon and the general was stalking towards them.

"What is going on?" the general demanded. Sherlock made a whimpering noise, nuzzling into John's side gently. John let him help him up, injured arm clutched against his side.

"We were on our way back from the mission sir," John explained, grimacing in pain. "We were about to land and got tackled. Another dominance fight sir."

"Land? You were riding?" Bowen asked, impressed. John nodded, clutching Sherlock's harness to keep upright.

"First time he's let me sir," John told him, starting to tremble.

"Better go see the hospital tent," the general finally dismissed, realizing John was barely standing. John nodded, moving in the direction of the camp and only made it halfway to the gates before his vision darkened and he felt himself going down.

John woke with a jerk, another nightmare startling him awake. The tent he was in was dark and everyone inside was sleeping, all except for the person laying beside him in his cot. "What the?" John whispered, as he noticed dark curls and the glimmer of scales against pale skin. Sherlock was in his human form, nestled against him in the cot, nose pressed into his side. He grumbled in his sleep, wing draping over both of them and stilled once more. John's arm was wrapped snugly and strapped to his chest and whatever pain meds he'd been given were wearing off. He tried to readjust himself and a sharp pain shot up his back making him gasp. He glanced down and realized glowing blue eyes were regarding him curiously.

"You're in pain," Sherlock said simply, sitting up and shaking his wings out.

"How did I get here? I passed out before we got to the gates," John asked, trying to sit himself up.

"I changed into this form and carried you," Sherlock shrugged. "I don't exactly have opposable arms in my natural form." He reached to help John sit up and John accepted the help readily. He cringed painfully and Sherlock got up, rustling through a nearby medical bag. He came back with a vial and syringe and handed them to John to draw up. He sat back down on the cot, wings draped around his shoulders. John drew up the meds and injected them into his bicep, tossing the syringe aside and sighing heavily.

"We're not gonna be able to go out on missions for a while," John moaned.

"You need to heal," Sherlock said simply, pressing into John's side. "Go back to sleep." John grumbled but laid back down, yanking the scratchy army blanket up over his shoulders. He heard Sherlock chuckle lightly but was soon slipping into blissful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

John was going to go insane. He'd been cooped up in the base for a week working the hospital tent and he was about to scream from boredom. Sherlock followed him around helping where he could but even the dragon was getting tired of the menial tasks. One evening when it had been especially slow Sherlock disappeared for about an hour, coming back when the sky had darkened with a load in his arms. John stared at him quizzically, realizing he had his saddle and harnesses in his arms.

"We're going for a ride," Sherlock explained, dumping his things on the floor. "If I don't get out of here for a little while I'm going to burst." John didn't even argue as Sherlock changed, picking up the harnesses and fitting them into place and tightening buckles. They exited the tent through the back, avoiding the security guards patrolling the main area and Sherlock kneeled to let John clamber unsteadily onto his back. He only had one arm to hang on with so he tightened his knees around Sherlock's sides nervously. The dragon chortled then burst into the air, gaining as much height as he could as quickly as he could. They cleared the clouds overhead and Sherlock leveled out, moving into a gentle rhythmic pace. John sighed as the cool breeze brushed his face, patting the side of Sherlock's neck.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For allowing me to ride you. I needed this." Sherlock glanced back at him, golden eyes glimmering and made a series of whistling happy noises. They flew for another hour before Sherlock headed back towards the base, aiming for the back of the hospital tent. He landed smoothly, wings tucking against his side as John slid down, wobbling on his feet.

"Where have you been?" a dark voice asked suddenly. General Zane came out of the shadows, his black dragon launching at Sherlock and slamming the dragon to the ground.

"Sherlock!" John yelped. "We just went for a flight sir. I'm so sorry. We were just getting so bored in the medical tent."

"Moriarty heel," General Zane called and the dragon backed off Sherlock, leering at him. Sherlock made a pained noise and John hurried to his side. There were several bite wounds across Sherlock's shoulder, oozing steadily. "See to it that you do not go on another one of your joy rides without express permission Watson." The man left, snapping his fingers at Moriarty who followed in annoyance.

"Come on big fella," John encouraged, trying to get Sherlock to the medical tent. "I have to clean these wounds." As they stumbled inside Sherlock changed to his human form, grasping at his shoulder painfully.

"John," he whimpered, and allowed the doctor to lead him to an empty cot. John quickly gathered supplies and started cleaning the wounds, making Sherlock cry out in pain as he scrubbed. When he was all cleaned and wrapped up he curled up on the cot, whining painfully. John hesitated only a moment before carding a hand through Sherlock's dark curls gently. His fingers traced the shape of horns then wrapped curls around his fingers making the dragon purr in delight.

"Get some sleep," John instructed finally. "We both need it." Sherlock nodded, eyes already fluttering closed and John yawned before laying down next to the dragon comfortably.

"John," a voice was calling softly. He woke up with a groan, blinking up at the face of Mike Stamford. "What are you doing?" he asked, glancing at something right behind him. John started to sit up and was yanked back with a low growl. Sherlock was curled against him asleep, one arm draped around his middle. Molly stood behind Mike with a small smile on her face, hand at her chin like she'd been trying to cover it up.

"We had an incident last night," John explained softly, still trying to tug away from Sherlock's hold. "I had to bandage him up and we must have fallen asleep here." Sherlock finally let him go, curling in on himself and wrapping a wing around his body.

"Well I'm here to take over the tent, why don't you head back to yours before someone else comes in," Mike told him, gathering up the spilled supplies from the night before. Molly who was a wisp of a girl in human form, hurried after him to help, giving them one last smile.

"Come on Sherlock," John grumbled shaking the dragon slightly. A low growl was his only response but he got up, sliding into his dragon form as he exited the tent, tail dragging behind him. The sun was already high in the sky as they shambled towards their shared tent and Sherlock collapsed into his nest of blankets with a thud. John climbed into his own cot, pulling the familiar blankets around him and passing out.

Several Months Later

John grinned, flexing his fingers and looking up at Sherlock who looked equally pleased. He'd finally been cleared to go back out on missions, his arm healed. Sherlock was already in his harnesses and saddle, rocking back and forth in anticipation of getting to fly. John clambered onto Sherlock's back and they ran to the gate to meet the team heading into the field. There was only one other dragon team in their company and John was pleased to see that they were the only mounted pair. Sherlock tucked his wings against him, laying over John's legs and moved to stand next to the other dragon pair. He recognized the dragon as Anderson, a mottled green earth dragon. His owner looked longingly up at John, probably wishing he was allowed to ride his own dragon. They had been waiting quietly when another dragon stepped up beside them and John realized it was Lestrade, General Bowen sitting astride his back. "Move out!" Bowen called, smirking slightly at John. John smiled awkwardly back, adjusting his position in the saddle as Sherlock stepped forward. Lestrade and Sherlock both unfurled their wings and eyed each other in challenge. John gulped and Bowen smiled, patting Lestrade's neck affectionately. "Let's show these yellow bellies how to fly Lestrade," he challenged.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and suddenly they were shooting into the air, gaining altitude with Lestrade and Bowen right behind them. John gripped the handle tightly, but let out a whoop of delight as Sherlock climbed higher and higher, the distance between Lestrade and Bowen growing. Wings snapped open suddenly, scooping air then they were diving, flying past a startled Lestrade. Sherlock spun as they dived, making John dizzy and his heart race. They leveled out a hundred feet over the marching group below, drawing quite a few hoots and claps. A moment later Lestrade leveled out next to them, breathing heavily, he'd obviously worked hard to catch up to them. Sherlock let out a grunting chuckle and John patted his neck affectionately.

"That..." Bowen breathed out heavily. "Was some damn fine flying." John grinned, he didn't need told, he knew how amazing Sherlock was. Seconds later an explosion rocked the ground below them and panicked yells could be heard through the dust and debris.

"Sherlock go!" John yelled, urging the dragon down towards the attack. Sherlock leveled out right above the cloud, scooping air and pushed towards it. The whirlwind of air was dispersing the cloud, making it so they could see what was going on. The enemy soldiers had created a sneak attack and were fighting hand to hand with many of their own team. Sherlock was looking around quickly, assessing, then went into a dive. John's hair stood on end as he felt the electrical build up then Sherlock was shooting an attack, taking enemies down left and right. A sonic boom went sailing past them and hit another enemy and John turned to see Lestrade and Bowen had joined the fray. Lestrade was an air dragon and his sonic booms were knocking people over as he created a more powerful whirlwind around them to push the rest of the dust cloud away. John focused back on what they were doing just as Sherlock slammed into the ground, whipping his tail around and taking out two more men as he shot an attack at another. John slid from his back, hurrying towards an injured comrade as Sherlock stayed close behind him. The man grabbed hold of John's arm as he reached him, his other hand pressed to his side where an arrow was protruding.

"Help me please!" he cried, gripping the arrow shaft tighter. John nodded sharply, pulling his hand away and assessing the damage. Sherlock had already moved the bag he needed within reach and he grabbed his supplies quickly. The majority of the arrow shaft he broke off, careful not to jar the wound more. He gathered a wad of cotton and a pressure bandage and looked up at the man's scared eyes.

"This is going to hurt, I'm sorry," he apologized and before the man could protest he yanked the rest of the arrow out, pressing the cotton over the flowing wound tightly. The man howled, gripping John's forearm so tightly it hurt, but John ignored him, wrapping the pressure bandage around his abdomen quickly and efficiently.

"Sherlock can you carry him!" John yelled up at the dragon. Sherlock shot another attack, smacked another man away then grunted, turning to help John push the man upright. The man looked scared to touch the huge creature but John urged him up, putting him in the saddle and instructed him to hold on to the handle. Sherlock was already attacking again and urged John away from the middle of the fray, keeping him protectively under his wing. The fighting was dying down as they neared the edge of the battle and John thought he saw Lestrade fly overhead, shooting a few more sonic booms. Another shadow and Lestrade landed in front of them Bowen sliding off and hurrying towards them.

"The rest of them ran," he told them, inspecting the man on Sherlock's back. "Transport is on its way for the injured. Looks like we won today."

The next few hours went by in a blur as John hurried around to his fallen comrades, fixing, bandaging, healing. Sherlock stayed firmly beside him, eyes still wary, but helping him lifting and moving patients. When the sun was starting to go down they were finally instructed to head back to camp. John was wobbly on his feet and leaned heavily against Sherlock as they made their way back. There were several packs strapped to the dragon's back and he was not entirely happy about being used as a pack horse, but he walked slowly beside John to help him along. As they entered the gates there was sudden cheering and a rush of soldiers came towards them, dragging John into the fray and smacking him on the back.

"Took out the whole group!" someone yelled, smacking him so hard on the back he almost went down. "Destroyed all of them!" Sherlock was making concerned chirrups behind him, growling at men that were trying to pat him in congratulations too. "Never saw anything like it!" John smiled awkwardly, trying to make his way out of the group and towards his tent until finally Sherlock shoved through the group grabbing John by the back of his vest and lifting him away from the grasping hands. John flushed as men started laughing but was pretty happy about getting away. When they were near the tent Sherlock let John down gently, pushing him again.

"I know I know," John grumbled. "I'm ready for bed too." John collapsed onto his cot, watching Sherlock stumble over to his nest and curl up cat-like. It didn't take long before he let exhaustion take him.


	6. Chapter 6

John woke in the middle of the night to a low growl and realized Sherlock was crouched next to his cot, staring at a shadow on the side of the tent. A high pitched rasping chuckle came from the dragon outside his tent and an obsidian nose snuffled under the tent door. Sherlock let out the most ferocious snarling growl he'd ever heard come from the dragon and the obsidian nose withdrew, the rasping chuckle sounding again before the dragon slowly moved away.

"Who was that?" John asked when the dragon was gone. Sherlock sighed, eyes closing as he shrank into his human form and John tossed his jumpsuit to him as he finished. Sherlock took his time pulling the clothing on then ran a hand through his curls.

"Moriarty," Sherlock finally mumbled, blue eyes glancing up at John. "He's very interested in me for some reason. I haven't yet figured out why." John sat up and started as Sherlock climbed up beside him, pressing into his shoulder.

"Thank you again," John said quietly, trying to break the awkward silence. "For protecting me, for letting me ride, for everything." Sherlock smacked John upside the head with a wing playfully, nuzzling into John's hair and snorting as the hairs tickled him.

"If it wasn't for you I'd be dead," Sherlock said simply as he drew away. He ran a hand through his curls again and got to his feet. "I'm gonna keep watch for a little while, go back to sleep." He stepped forward sliding into his dragon form before John could say anything else and slipped out the door. John scratched his head in confusion but curled back up on his cot, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders.

When John reported to the medical tent the next day Sherlock still hadn't shown up and he was growing slightly worried. General Bowen was waiting for him and John saluted before joining him. He sat on the cot across, smiling softly as he picked up a roll of bandage and started rerolling it.

"What can I do for you sir?" John asked curiously.

"You got quite the reception yesterday Watson," Bowen smiled up at him. "You and Sherlock fly remarkably well together." John smiled thinking of his dragon and worrying slightly about where he'd gotten off to.

"It's all him sir," John chuckled. "I'm just along for the ride."

"Well Watson I'd be happy to have you out more often on missions if you'd be interested," Bowen offered.

"We'd be happy to sir." Bowen got to his feet, straightening his jacket and clapping his hands together.

"If there's anything you ever need, just come ask," Bowen told him with a smile, pushing the tent flap open to reveal Lestrade there waiting for him.

"Sir if I may," John started, making Bowen pause. "I have a dragon question." Bowen gestured for Lestrade to wait and turned back into the tent. "You see..." John started, struggling how to word his question. "Sherlock is very...tactile." He cringed at his own words but he'd already gone this far. "Is your dragon the same?" Bowen smiled warmly and chuckled.

"The thing about dragons is, they're very possessive of what they deem theirs," Bowen explained. "And to them, we are their most prized possessions. They want to keep us for themselves. I understand Sherlock was going to be put down and that's why you chose him?" John nodded, still taking in everything he'd been told. "Then he feels he owes you his life. He'll protect you till his last breath John. Cherish what you have together." John nodded again and Bowen took his leave, patting Lestrade's neck affectionately on his way out. There was no one in the medical tent that day so John dragged a chair out front, stretching out and letting the sun warm his tanned skin. He'd almost dozed off when a shadow blocked out his light. He squinted up and smiled at Sherlock who was in his dragon form still. The dragon chirruped, pushing his face into John's hands asking to be scratched and John complied with a chuckle. Once his itch had been sufficiently scratched Sherlock curled up around John's chair to bask in the sun, even letting John prop his feet up along his back.

The two passed the time together in companionable silence until John's relief arrived, then meandered to the mess tent to grab some dinner. They were stopped several times by people congratulating them still, Sherlock preening at the attention, but still not allowing anyone to touch him. This made John smile softly, it made him feel special that he was the only one allowed to touch the dragon. As he was thinking this, Sherlock pressed into his side, chirruping softly and gestured towards the mess tent.

"I know, I know," John chuckled. They were halfway through their meal when Bowen slipped into the seat across from them. John tried to clamber to his feet quickly but Bowen waved his hand, indicating he should sit back down.

"I've got a mission for you two," he explained softly. "A private mission." Sherlock and John glanced at each other and crowded in closer. "It will be just the two of you. There's a package pickup, two days flight from here. I'll provide you with a map to the pickup location. This is confidential boys, no one but us knows about this." John nodded firmly and Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly. "Pack your overnight bag, you're heading out in the morning." He got up and disappeared into the crowd as quickly as he'd appeared. John hurriedly ate the rest of his meal, noticing that Sherlock hadn't eaten any more of his and was looking rather put out.

"Come on," John said nudging the dragon with a smile. "Let's go pack." Sherlock snorted in annoyance but got up and headed back towards the tent with John jogging behind him. As soon as they were inside Sherlock was sliding into his human form, turning and piercing John with a glare.

"I don't like this," Sherlock said immediately, putting his hands on his hips. John flushed, scrambling for Sherlock's jumpsuit and trying to hand it to the dragon who knocked it away. "We know nothing about what we're picking up. He's sending us by ourselves. This is dangerous and a death trap."

"Sherlock please," John pleaded, picking up the clothing again. "We'll be fine. Bowen wouldn't send us if he didn't think we could handle it." He urged Sherlock to take the jumpsuit again and it was snatched out of his hands but Sherlock didn't put it on. He stepped right into John's bubble, glaring down at the soldier in annoyance.

"I am not immortal John," he hissed. "I can be killed, there's no guarantee of your protection." John's whole face was flushed as Sherlock stared down at him and realized he'd gripped the sleeve of John's jacket tightly. "Please do not do this mission," he pleaded, eyes softening.

"I...I have to Sherlock," John stammered. "I can't tell him no, he's my commander." Sherlock sighed, pressing his forehead against John's, eyes closing.

"I'll pack the bags," Sherlock finally grumbled, pulling away and yanking on his jumpsuit. John stumbled back, plopping down into his cot and watching in silence as Sherlock gathered the things they'd need. Not knowing what else to do John grabbed his blanket, curling up and facing the wall of the tent. He might as well get an early night if they were heading out in the morning. He was almost fully asleep when a warm body slid into the cot behind him, nose nuzzling between his shoulder blades. He smiled softly and fell into blissful darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

So since we're 7 chapters in now I figured I'd introduce myself. I'm Ashley and this is my first fanfic in a very long time. I haven't been able to really sit down and write for the last 2 years because I was so busy with full time school and a job. Now that I have finished my RVT education I have a little free time on my hands and my fingers have been itching to write. I apologize if the writing doesn't flow very well, it will get better the more I write. I'm very out of practice. Sorry about the short hiatus the last few days, I started watching Supernatural and stumbled into the world of Destiel and got a bit sidetracked. OMG I love Cas. I might be writing a short oneshot of them just to get it out of my system before I get fully back to this.

I'm not going to beg for them but reviews are encouragement. I love to hear you guys are enjoying the story and what stuff you're really liking so I can include more of it. So on to the story!

John and Sherlock were packed up and headed toward the gate before the sun had even risen fully, steps not making a sound. Once they were near the front gate Sherlock kneeled, allowing John to climb into the saddle easily. Seconds later they were in the air, Sherlock gaining height so they could use the cloud cover to hide in. The air was still crisp and cool this early in the morning, but the rising sun promised warmth as John pulled his jacket more tightly around him. Sherlock had looked at the map they'd been given that morning and claimed he had it memorized so John sat back and relaxed, letting the dragon take them where they needed to go.

They'd been flying for hours when John realized they were losing altitude. As they descended from the clouds he noticed the ground below them had become wooded and a misty fog was settled over the tops of the trees. The closer they came to the ground, the muggier it got till John was questioning whether or not he'd be able to remove his jacket without falling off the dragon. Sherlock started a wide circle, descending as if to land and John noticed the small clearing below. When they were about 50 feet above the clearing Sherlock leaned and dove, slamming into the ground and bounding a few paces. John immediately slid from his back, shrugging the jacket off and walking around trying to get his balance back. He felt bow legged from riding for so long and Sherlock chuckled in that chirrupy way of his before shrinking down into his human form. He shook the rest of his harnesses off, digging through one of the bags and pulling out a pair of cargo pants that he yanked on briskly.

"I needed a break," he explained as he buttoned. "It's been a long time since I've flown this far in one day."

" 's all right," John chuckled. "I needed one too. I'm hungry and gotta pee." Sherlock's eyes scanned the surrounding area suspiciously before nodding with a grunt. He started digging through their food supplies bag so John wandered off into the woods to find a suitable tree.

He was finishing up when he heard a branch crack behind him. He spun around and let out a yell as he was tackled to the ground by a dragon. He cried out in pain as a clawed foot slammed into his shoulder holding him down. The dragon pulled its head back, flame gathering in the back of its throat and John clenched his eyes closed waiting for the end. Suddenly the weight was knocked off of him and he gasped for air, curling to his side and trying to push himself up. Something was standing over the top of him and he quickly realized it was Sherlock's scaled belly. John could feel the tremors of Sherlock's snarls all the way through his body and almost whimpered in fear. The dragon that had attacked him was getting to its feet a short distance away, shaking its head and pawing at the burnt flesh on its side where Sherlock had struck him with one of his lightning blasts. The dragon was a yellow orange color and had a frill of dark orange spine down its back. It was well fed, John would venture towards chubby and it's dark green eyes regarded them both in annoyance. It started talking in chirrups and whistles, almost seeming to scold Sherlock to which Sherlock stared back in stony silence. Once it was finished Sherlock let out a couple indignant huffs and snorts, slamming his paw on the ground near John. The other dragon snorted but turned and started walking away, limping somewhat and making Sherlock chuckle haughtily.

He finally stepped aside, nuzzling into John gently to see if he was all right. John used his good arm to wrap around Sherlock's neck and be pulled to his feet where he stood with trembling knees for a moment before heading back towards the clearing. Sherlock shrank as they walked, shaking out leathery wings and tucking them neatly against his back. He snatched his discarded pants off the ground nearby, yanked them on and steered John to a tree stump to sit on. John dropped happily to his seat, allowing Sherlock to ease his shirt over his head to better see the wound in his shoulder. It was sore more than anything but there were several puncture marks from the dragons sharp claws. Sherlock went to the medical bag, gathering antibacterial ointment and bandages as John watched him in a daze.

"Did you know that dragon?" he asked suddenly and Sherlock visibly flinched. The dragon made his way back to John, smoothing ointment over the wounds before he answered.

"That was Mycroft," Sherlock said softly. "He's my brother."

"Your brother?" John exclaimed and almost fell off his seat if Sherlock hadn't grabbed his arm to steady him. "Why did your brother attack me?"

"Gauging emotional reactions," Sherlock shrugged. "Assessing weaknesses. The sort of things government officials like to keep track of."

"You hit him though," John argued as Sherlock wrapped bandage around him. "Like really badly."

"Mycroft deserves it," Sherlock growled.

"If you have a brother, why were you in the dragon center?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Sherlock snapped, tying the ends of his bandage down a little tighter than necessary and making John wince. "Are you all right now?" he asked, voice softer.

"It hurts," John mumbled, trying not to sound totally pathetic. Sherlock smiled gently, hand ghosting through John's hair a moment before he was digging through the medical bags again. He came back with a water bottle and a few pain pills, handing them over one at a time.

"Think you can ride?" Sherlock asked after giving John a few minutes. John nodded, accepting Sherlock's help as he wrapped an arm around the man and lifted him gently. John swayed slightly but steadied himself and released Sherlock to stand on his own. He nodded once and Sherlock stepped away, sliding into his natural form and towards his abandoned harnesses. John shook his head to clear it then bent to help Sherlock get into his harness. Sherlock laid all the way down to make it easier for John to climb up and gave him plenty of time to get adjusted before he took off again. He headed back into the cloud cover, wings pumping steadily, trying to fly as gently as possible. John meanwhile was just concentrating on holding on, bending low over the saddle and trying to keep his head clear. He must have hit his head on the ground harder than he'd originally thought. His eyes were getting heavy, the world around him skewing and he vaguely wondered if Sherlock was doing spins through the sky. That couldn't be possible though because he wasn't even holding on to the saddle. The wind was blowing and he turned his face in to it and realized the ground was getting closer. He thought he heard a shriek then it all went black.


	8. Chapter 8

I apologize for the very long delay, you see I got the box set of seasons 1-8 of Supernatural and it kind of consumed my life. And Destiel man...Destiel is fantastic. I went and saw the new How to Train Your Dragon movie though and that got me back on the dragon train. If you haven't seen it...seriously go. It is amazing, artistically beautiful, made me cry, made me laugh...just pure amazing sauce. Now back to where we left off...

Sherlock had never flown as hard as he was flying now, wings pulling at air, diving, paws outstretched desperately for John's falling body. 'The stupid dolt' he growled to himself. 'Should've said he couldn't fly.' Sherlock desperately snapped his wings back, pinning them against his body in a rocketing dive. They were about a hundred feet above the ground when his paw caught a hold of John's jacket and he snapped his wings open. An air current caught him, pushing him higher as he scrambled for a better hold on John. He pumped his wings once, twice, then glided toward the nearest clearing. He dropped John gently to the ground, coming to land a little further forward then rushed toward the prone man, changing as he went. He shrugged the harnesses off and turned John over, pressing his ear to his chest fearfully. "Passed out," he grumbled, cradling John more gingerly against him. "Stupid idiot." John's eyes fluttered open at the growl and he looked up at Sherlock in confusion.

"What happened? I thought we were flying," John muttered, eyes closing again.

"You passed out and fell off!" Sherlock snapped. "You almost died!"

"Oh..." John mumbled. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" Sherlock shrieked. "You almost die and you're sorry!" John winced, hands moving to massage his temples delicately.

"I didn't realize I'd smacked my head on the ground so hard," he explained, looking up at Sherlock with wide eyes. "It was your brother that attacked me." Sherlock huffed, scooping his other arm under John's knees and getting to his feet in one swift movement. John started at the sudden movement and threw his arms around Sherlock's neck to hold on. "W-what are you doing?" John stuttered then flushed when he realized Sherlock was still naked.

"Finding cover so we can set up camp for the night," Sherlock said simply, heading toward the tree line. John slowly relaxed, leaning his cheek against the dragon's warm shoulder as he walked. Sherlock finally found a cave and kicked some brush into a pile to lay John on, the pine needles forming a cushioned bed. Sherlock sat up him down gently, hand ghosting over his hair. John let his eyes flutter closed and felt the press of lips against his brow before he let sleep take him.

Sherlock made his way back to the mouth of the cave, sliding into his dragon form and taking off back toward the clearing to gather their things.

When John woke again the sky outside the cave was dark and a fire was burning nearby, warming the small space. Sherlock was in his human form lounging against the rock wall, thankfully wearing clothes again. His blue eyes were watching John carefully, yet he remained completely relaxed. John sat up slowly, glad to see that the dizziness was gone and scooted closer to the fire where a plate of food was waiting for him.

"Thanks," John mumbled as he started shoveling food into mouth. Sherlock only nodded, eyes closing in contemplation. "What time is it?" he asked after swallowing a mouthful.

"About 4 in the morning," Sherlock replied without opening his eyes. "We should probably leave soon if you're feeling up to it so we can make up lost time." John nodded, shoveling the rest of the food in his mouth and getting to his feet to check his balance. He felt a lot better after the rest and food and dug a couple pain pills out to push away the hint of a headache, ignoring the icy eyes watching his every move. He shoved everything back into the bags, securing them closed again and picked up Sherlock's harnesses from nearby.

"Ready to get strapped in?" he asked the dragon who got to his feet and stepped closer. Sherlock moved into John's personal space, staring intently down at him.

"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked John seriously, hand reaching out to run through John's shaggy hair. John found himself leaning into the hand without realizing it and Sherlock smiled softly, thumb stroking the man's cheek bone.

"I'll be okay," John promised, meeting Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock dropped his hand to John's shoulder, pressed his lips to John's forehead a moment then stepped away, sliding into his dragon form before John had fully realized what had happened. Sherlock stood at the cave entrance waiting patiently for John to put the harnesses on, securing bags and saddle, his cheeks flushed pink. As John climbed up Sherlock swatted their fire out with a smack of his tail and headed out into the night. Once the soldier was situated Sherlock was in the air, enjoying the crisp breeze, wings stretching and pulling rhythmically. John sat comfortably, holding the handle in front of him as they climbed higher. They broke through the clouds and the stars shimmered overhead, giving just enough light to gleam off of Sherlock's dark scales. John ran a hand over the scales absentmindedly and felt the vibration of a pleased purr underneath him. He smiled softly and settled in for a long haul.

The sun had been up for several hours and was getting close to directly overhead when Sherlock started to descend once more. John peered around curiously as they dropped below the clouds and noticed a small village in the distance.

"Is that where we're going?" John asked. Sherlock chirruped in what sounded like a positive and angled down into his descent. John leaned back, balancing himself in the saddle as Sherlock bounded across the ground, coming to a stop. John slid from his back, shaking out stiff limbs and heading toward the village. Sherlock stuck close to his side, wings hanging half open as if prepared to take off at any moment. As they drew close 3 men appeared on the road at the entrance, standing with crossed arms. John stopped about 20 feet from the men, Sherlock growling softly beside him.

"We're here to pick up a package," John said loud enough for them to hear. He reached very slowly into his chest pocket for the letter Bowen had given him and held it out for the men to take. The one in the center stepped forward, a sword hanging loosely at his side and snatched the letter from John's hand, eyeing Sherlock nervously.

"Is he tame?" the man asked gruffly, gesturing at the dragon. Sherlock snarled in response, baring his teeth.

"Enough," John shrugged, patting Sherlock's neck. "Are you going to bring me the package?" The man glanced through the letter a second, then gestured for the two men behind him. They came forward and John realized that one carried a package roughly the size of a melon. John reached out and wrapped his fingers around the string holding the box closed and pulled his hand back quickly. The men didn't move to leave so John backed away, depositing the package in one of Sherlock's packs and tying it closed securely. He stepped into the stirrup and hoisted himself up as Sherlock started backing up. The dragon growled one last time then with a firm flap they shot into the air, gaining altitude quickly.

John relaxed as they ascended into the cloud cover, patting Sherlock's neck comfortingly. "We made it," he murmured, pressing his hand against the warm expanse of shoulder next to his knee. Sherlock grumbled, the vibration passing through John's hand and making him smile. His joy was short lived as a blast of heat slammed into them and white hot pain shot through his leg. He clutched the handle in front of him as Sherlock shrieked and lurched, wings beating the air frantically as he looked around for their attacker. A jet black streak went flying overhead and Sherlock immediately snapped his wings in, diving away from the danger.

He went careening into the forest canopy, smashing into a thick limb, wings arched back protectively around John. When they finally stopped moving John was barely hanging on to the saddle. Blood was seeping down his leg and Sherlock's scales were scorched with ash around his leg. John carefully slid down on to the wide branch, clinging to Sherlock's harness as he chirruped frantically. Once John was sitting against the trunk Sherlock quickly shrank, wings arching high over his head protectively.

"John!" he squeaked out as soon as he was able, scrambling closer. John smiled dazedly up at the dragon, clutching his leg tightly against him. "let me see," he said firmly, dragging one of the med packs closer. John's eyes closed tightly, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye. Sherlock pried his hands away and took in the painfully burnt and blistered skin. It was bleeding sluggishly, and the burns were most likely 3rd degree but John would live. He tried not to sigh in relief and instead ripped the rest of the pants leg open, cutting it off above the wound. He found burn ointment next to a bottle of pain medication and handed both over to John along with some clean bandages. "Will you be all right? The dragon asked, getting to his feet and stretching his wings.

"I think so, what are you doing?" John asked, but Sherlock didn't answer only slid into his dragon form, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing up at the sky. He pumped his wings a couple times making sure everything was in one piece then nuzzled against John gingerly. He took one last long look at the soldier then shot into the air, disappearing quickly. John tried not to hyperventilate as he tended to his leg. Sherlock was a more than capable dragon, he'd seen it himself at the camp that the man could hold his own. But now here he was, alone in the jungle, didn't know where the hell he was, with a very injured leg and a still injured shoulder. "Please come back," he pleaded.


End file.
